A Kilt Will Get You Places
by ninja-of-pasta
Summary: Prom sucks. But you know what else does? Blaine. Literally. Post-prom fic.


Kurt is exhausted. His eyes still sting from crying, the fabric of his kilt has hitched up, and all he wants to do is crawl into bed with a very large tub of ice cream and watch movies on Lifetime. But he can't. Well, he could. If Blaine wasn't here. Blaine and his stupid nice tuxedo, and matching boutonnaieres, and slick back hair that makes him look just a little like Zac Efron in Hairspray. And all Kurt wanted to do at the beginning of this night was to push Blaine up against a wall, a door, any hard surface and do unspeakable things to him with his tongue. This night started out so well.

But now this night is over, and all he has for it is puffy eyes and a plastic tiara, which admittedly would have been very cool when he was 10, but now it made him just want to punch something. He grips his steering wheel, making his knuckles turn a sickly white. Kurt clamps his teeth tightly shut, the sudden anger he has know discovered making him push harder on the gas pedal.

"Kurt, can you please slow down?" Blaine asks from the passenger seat.

"What? Oh, sorry." Kurt pulls his foot back, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks. 'Great', he thinks, 'now Blaine is going to assume that I am some mad man who is going to kill him in some rogue accident. That is exactly what I need right now, my boyfriend assuming I am going to get in a car accident with him'.

Kurt pulls into his driveway, tears ready to spill over when Blaine grabs his hand. "Hey, Kurt. Do you want me to stay?" Kurt's eyes widen. Blaine could stay. Burt and Carole went on their own date night, saying they were getting a motel for reasons Kurt was sure he didn't want to know. Finn was staying over at Quinn's, and even if he didn't with the way things went tonight he would most likely just go over and stay at Puck's or Artie's. The house is empty. And Kurt could really use some cuddle time right now. But it would be Blaine and him, alone. For a long amount of time. In a empty house. That has a sofa, and a bed, and places that you could back someone up against…

Okay, inappropriate time and pants to have these thoughts in. Kurt shakes his head to get his mind out of the gutter and looks over at Blaine, who is still waiting for his answer. "Um…yeah. Please stay." Kurt says in a voice that he hopes doesn't come off as wanting and vulnerable. Blaine smiles at him and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze before opening the car door. Kurt follows, locking the doors before coming up behind Blaine, waiting for him to move. Blaine turns around to Kurt, his face mere inches away.

"You have to unlock the door Kurt." Blaine says in a breathless voice. The puff of air hits Kurt's face and he can smell the mints that Blaine chews endlessly, even more since they started dating. He carefully side-steps Blaine, even though his skin feels like someone poured gasoline on him and lit a match, and plucks his house key into the lock, swiftly turning it and opening the door. Cold air hits them when they walk in, the air conditioner put on full blast. Blaine closes the door behind him and walks over to sit on the couch in the living room, patting the space beside him.

Kurt walks over, tucks his rough kilt under his legs and sits down. "So what do you want to do?" Blaine asks. Kurt suspects that Blaine doesn't want this to be like any other cliché after prom night, and it's sad to say that Kurt would've rather had it like that.

"I was really hoping to just sit here and stuff my face with frozen treats while watching movies that are based off of real stories but it's not the real story, just some cheap reenactment that has better looking people. Oh, and some crying probably would've happened do to the fact that my life sucks."

Blaine opens his mouth to say something, most likely along the lines of 'Don't say that Kurt' or 'They don't have what we have', and that's sweet and all, but Kurt just needs…something. Love maybe? Yes, that's what he needs. He needs to be wrapped in the arms of someone he loves and loves him. And he loves Blaine, he's sure of it. But he's not quite sure if it's vice versa.

"No, don't say anything. I'll go get the ice cream, you go see if there is anything good on." Kurt gets up and heads into the kitchen, pulling the freezer open and looking inside. He sees about 15 boxes of frozen lunch meals covered in frost and a small tub of mint chocolate chip that sits hidden on the top shelf. Well, he guesses that Blaine and him will share, no big deal. Kurt grabs the tub and two spoons from a drawer before heading back to the couch.

Blaine is sitting there, shoes placed neatly beside him. The remote is in his hand and he flipping through channels at a steady rate when a loud, mechanical noise echoes throughout the house. He jumps up and stands right next to Kurt, so close that he can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

"What was that?" Blaine asks directly into Kurt's ear. Kurt shivers, even as the air around him begins to heat up. "I think it was the air conditioner. My dad has been waiting out to fix it but I guess it finally gave out. I'll tell him when he gets home tomorrow." Kurt shrugs before making about a good foot of distance between him and Blaine's body.

Blaine raises an eyebrow but sits down anyway. Kurt joins him, opening the ice cream and sticking a spoon in it. He stares at the spoon. He can literally feel the spoon mocking him. He didn't even know that spoons could mock. But he is sure that the utensil is doing it right now. Maybe he needs to stop staring at the spoon and shove it in his mouth. Yeah, that sounds good.

Blaine takes the other spoon from Kurt's grasp and just holds it. "Kurt, I can't decide. You can pick," Blaine says before handing the remote to Kurt. "Just put it on Lifetime. I think that was part of the 'need to stop thinking about this night' setlist." Blaine nods and flips through until he gets to the channel. A movie about the danger of internet dating. Way to be original, Lifetime.

Kurt settles into the cushion, sticking small spoonfuls of the mint chip into his mouth. Well, it was official. Worse night of his life. And he just knows that the fat in the frozen treat is going to go straight to his hips. He already has pear hips, thank you very much!

The movie plays, starting out with a simple teenage girl, talking to a guy on the internet. Kurt is bored as hell. And hot. No seriously, it's like 90 degrees in the house right now. And the air conditioner only gave out, what? 10 minutes ago? Kurt shifts uncomfortably, the sweat making his button down cling to his back. Blaine seems to be having the same problem. His forehead has small glistening drops across it. "I'll go look for a fan." Kurt says suddenly, standing up and dropping his jacket from his shoulders, placing it on the nearby armchair.

"No, no. It's okay. You don't need to go find one, its…fine. It's not even that hot."

Kurt gives him his best 'bitch, please' face. "Blaine, it's turning into an oven in here. I don't want to be cooked like a Thanksgiving turkey. Now shut up and let me go find a fan."

Kurt walks away, leaving Blaine who has a look like someone told him singing was stupid and then said they ran over his puppy. And Blaine doesn't even own a puppy.

The brunette steps up the stairs to the second floor. He searches the hallway storage and then all of the rooms, but can't find a fan at all. Kurt decides to just slump down in his room and remove his combat boots. He loosens the strings and pulls them off. Kurt stares at his bare feet and then sticks his head between his legs. He feels sick, like every nerve in his body had been set on fire and now they were ash. His hands slide down his calves, the light material of the leggings creating goosebumps.

Kurt needs the leggings off, like, yesterday. He reaches under his kilt and grabs the waistband, pulling it down after his thighs and down to his ankles. He kicks them off and stands up, now feeling cooler. He's fine just wearing the kilt; he has underwear underneath and the kilt goes just pass his knees. It's like shorts, but not really. Who cares, honestly?

Kurt pads back down the stairs, the whoosh of air cooling his face. Once he reenters the living room, he sees Blaine, lounging lazily, his jacket gone and his tie hanging loosely from his neck. The sleeves of his white oxford are pushed up and the pink carnation lies on the coffee table. Kurt walks back around to the armchair and unclips the carnation from his own jacket. He gives it a quick sniff, the sweet smell filling his nose. Sitting down, he carefully places the pink flower next to Blaine's, the steams overcrossing.

Blaine looks him over, eyes widening a bit as they go over Kurt's bare legs. "You took your leggings off." He says dumbly.

"Yeah, the house is practically on fire, but I feel better now that the leggings are off. You know the feeling that you get when you wear latex gloves and then you start to sweat and it seems to practically mend to your skin? That was what my leggings were doing."

Blaine nods and twines his fingers between Kurt's. The younger boy smiles softly at the display of affection, tightening his fingers and brushing the tips over Blaine's knuckles. Kurt lets his shoulders relax and Blaine leans into him. Kurt sighs contently, resting his head on the mass of curls.

They stay like that throughout the whole movie, which wasn't as bad as Kurt thought it would be, yet still equally expected in the end. However, the worst thing that could possibly happen did the second the credits ended.

Paid programming for shop erotic. Let him die right now.

The second the adult content warning comes on, Kurt flings his arms outward, frantically searching for the remote. He does find it, lodged under one of Blaine's legs and hits the power button so hard it keeps flicking on and off. Eventually, he does get the TV to turn off and heaves loudly.

"Okay, that was weird. Not that I wanted to see people trying to sell me sex toys, but the frantic movement was a bit unnecessary."

Kurt glares at Blaine. "The frantic movement was very much necessary. I do_ not_ want sex toys on my television screen or in my line of vision at all. In fact, why are we even discussing this? Let's stop discussing this now." Kurt turns his head and crosses his arms angrily, closing himself off to Blaine.

"Kurt, come on…"

Kurt does not want to do this right now. He wants Blaine to leave him, to let him be alone and cry into a pillow. But he can't, because he loves Blaine and he's scared that if he does ever tell him to go, he might just do that and never come back. Kurt feels tears begin to form at the edge of his eyes at the very thought.

Arms wrap around his long neck and Blaine nuzzles his nose into the crook. "Kurt, come on. You don't have to be angry about anything; you don't have to give in to what they want. That's all they want. They want to see your reaction, see that it does affect you. But Kurt you have to remember, you're better than all of them. You are a wonderful person who is so amazing that the average people here just can't see that. You don't need their approval."

Kurt can definitely feel a tear run down his face, stinging his already red eyes. Blaine kisses his neck softly and nuzzles in even more. Kurt graciously smiles and wraps his arms around Blaine, resting his hands on either side of his hips. Kurt likes these moments, when Blaine is pretty much just a huge cuddleslut and only wants affection. Like a puppy, only sluttier.

Blaine goes back to kissing at Kurt's skin, trailing his lips from the collar of his shirt to his jaw line. Kurt breathes in easily through his nose as Blaine nips gently at his jaw. It's almost like being treated to a spa treatment, all the stress being absorbed by Blaine's chapped lips. Kurt hums happily when Blaine travels up to his ear and carefully sucks at the pale skin under while dragging his tongue sinfully slow over it.

"Mmm, Blaine." Kurt drags one of his hands from Blaine's hip up his back, clenching and unclenching his fingers in the white fabric of his dress shirt. Blaine sucks his earlobe into his mouth and Kurt's breathing stutters. His tongue flicks out before blowing out cool air, causing Kurt to gasp loudly, a shiver running down his spine. Kurt seizes Blaine around the waist and brings him onto his lap, Blaine's knee slipping easily between his legs. Blaine's lips graze over his check before covering his lips in a searing kiss. Their lips move flawlessly against each other, breaths combining into the heated space.

One of Blaine's arm falls from his neck, but Kurt can care less when the other boy's tongue is tracing every inch of his mouth. He feels the fingers outline his exposed knee and start to move up his thigh. Kurt moans into Blaine's mouth when the hand slips under his kilt and rubs circles across the top of the pale skin. "Oh god, Kurt, the kilt just…" Blaine trails off, probably distracted by the sounds Kurt is making. Suddenly, the hand stills and the lips are gone and Kurt whimpers loudly at both lost.

"Wait, Kurt I…" Blaine starts but quickly loses his train of thought. Kurt pulls Blaine back so their faces are extremely close, noses nudging each other. "Blaine, less talking, more kissing. Now." Kurt tries to pull Blaine closer but the older resist.

"No, Kurt I-I wanted t-to try something." Kurt is sure his heart stops. 'I want to try something' are either the sexiest or scariest words ever.

Kurt stare into Blaine's hazel eyes, which are only filled with want and love and Kurt can't help but to not say no. "A-anything Blaine."

Blaine eyes brighten but are soon consumed with darkness as he starts to slide down from Kurt's lap to the floor. His knees hit the floor and Kurt takes in a deep breath when he realizes what Blaine is about to do. It's also when he realizes that about 90% of his blood is definitely in his crotch, his erection tenting in his kilt. When did he become so horny? They've only been making out for about half an hour. But Kurt's dick is starting to hurt from the strain of his boxers and he really, _really_ needs to get them off.

"A-are you s-sure Kurt? Y-you don't have to—"

"Blaine. I hate to say this, I really do, but I am extremely turned on at the moment. So would you please shut up and s-suck my cock?"

He stares up at Kurt with wide eyes before a smile spreads across his face. "Gladly."

Blaine's hands move back to the kilt, lifting it so he can stick his head under. Kurt's eyes roll back into his head and all he can feel is Blaine's hot breath ghosting his thighs, fingers slipping into the waistband of his very tight boxer-briefs. Blaine tugs them down, letting out a gasp loud enough to hear through the plaid material. Kurt lets out a small whine at the release and reaches behind him with one hand to grab at the back of the couch.

Then he feels Blaine's tongue lick at his tip and Kurt isn't sure what exactly air is anymore. Blaine's lips close over the head and his tongue runs over the tip again, this time dipping slightly into the slit. Kurt lets out a shaky breath and the other hand springs forward to try and find something to grip.

"Oh god,_ Blaine_, oh god, don't stop." Blaine's mouth takes more of Kurt in until his head is hitting the back of his throat before he drags back up. He swirls his tongue over the throbbing heat, mapping out every vein, every ridge with the flexible muscle. Blaine keeps rubbing different patterns into Kurt's thigh, the other hand going to grip the base of his cock.

Kurt can feel Blaine moving against his leg, his own erection seeking friction inside his dress pants. Kurt wills himself, the pleasure of the hot, wet cavern making his mind fuzzy, to open his eyes into half-lids. He looks down to his lap and moans loudly at the sight.

He can see Blaine bobbing back and forth under the kilt as he sucks on Kurt's cock and the arch of his back as he humps at Kurt's leg. He reaches his hand to grab at the top of Blaine's head under the scratchy material, wishing he could actually grab at the thick curls.

"Blaine, fuck, y-you're so h-hot, your tong-gue, ah-" Kurt pushes his hips forwards, shoving his erection further down Blaine's throat. Blaine, in return, hallows out his checks and relaxes himself. His thrusts get harder against Kurt's leg and in the back of his mind he can't just help to think that Blaine is acting like a dog in heat.

Blaine's tongue licks the underside of Kurt's cock, causing the younger boy to groan. "Yes, oh yes, ah—" Kurt can't form words at all, only short breathy pants they make Blaine rut harshly.

Then Blaine goes still, letting out a long moan that makes his mouth vibrate around Kurt's cock. "Oh god, B-Blaine, I-I'm gonna cu-um, oh, Bla-aine!"

Kurt shoots into Blaine's mouth, waves of pleasure consuming his body. Blaine chokes a little but happily gulps down the warm liquid, sucking Kurt dry until his dick begins to soften. Kurt watches his boyfriend remove his head from the kilt and give him a cheeky grin. Kurt feels completely exhausted and Blaine looks like he just heard that the whole world was celebrating his birthday? What the fuck?

"You suck." Kurt says, limply removing his arm from the back of the couch and returning it to his side.

"Why, yes, I do." Blaine chuckles when Kurt blushes and stands up stiffly. Kurt looks him over, ending at his crotch.

"Oh shit Blaine, come here I'll—"

Blaine holds his hand up to stop Kurt. "Uh, no need." He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with the other hand. Kurt thinks that it must be a nervous tick.

"But don't you need to—"

"No." Blaine says quickly. "I may have came when I was…humping your leg."

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him. "Really now? All you need to cum is just my dick in your mouth and my leg to hump against? And coming in your very expensive dress pants as well? You have very low standards, Blaine Warbler."

Blaine shakes his head. "I can't have low standards with you. That's, like, physically and mentally impossible."

Kurt laughs. "What time is it? We left at ten, the movie was about two hours, and that blowjob was…what? A good twenty minutes?"

Blaine looks over to the clock on the opposite wall. "1:36."

Kurt hums and lifts himself from the cushions. "Well, I better get you home then. Don't need your parents thinking you're having sexual relations with other boys." Blaine hugs him from behind. "Yes, that would be a tragedy."

"Come on, I'll go get my boots back on and we'll go." Kurt pads around to the stairs when Blaine calls out. "Can you hurry? I think my underwear is plastered to me."

"Well, I might just have to fix that in the car, won't I?"

"Is that a promise? Because if that's a promise, then forget the dress pants. I'll just wear a kilt."

"I'm not sure you have the legs to pull it off."

"We'll just have to see, won't we then?"

Kurt turns back half way up the stairs. "That," he raises a finger, "I can promise."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Is it a bit sad that I can't tell if my writing is any good at all? I stare at the words for hours and all I can think is 'this is crap, isn't it?'. I don't know.<strong>


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